The Donor to a Vampire (Donor #1)

Chapter 4: The Auction

After 48 hours, I was there, where the note said I should be—staring at the giant skyscraper in awe. The building's top was unseen no matter how much I tried to crane my neck as far back as my spine allowed; nevertheless, the top was obstructed by hazy evening fog. The revolving door was making the clak-clak-clak noise as people in various stages of classiness entered and exited.

I lowered my gaze to the invitation clutched in my hand, and it had magically appeared last night on the covers of my bed when I returned home. The feeling of being violated still made me shiver. I could imagine Alistair looking around my room, my private life, and probably sniffing a few of my panties before leaving the rich paper on the top of my covers. The bags under my eyes were a testament that I was doing underwear washing all night, Not that I could sleep anyways. My nerves were in shreds.

After a few deep breaths and several rechecks that the address was indeed correct, I marched to the door, pushed onto the rail, and entered the towering building. There was marble everywhere which made footsteps sound grander and louder. Frozen, my eyes dashed around as I looked for help. A porter with a thin moustache, overly prominent chin and tightly pursed lips gave me a side eye, clearly spotting that I didn't belong there. With a smile that seemed more like a snide, he approached.

"Is there something I can help you with, Miss?" the Porter inquired while his head was held so high I could see the inside of his nostrils. He was in severe need of clipping the nose hair; it looked like a spider's legs were crawling out of his nose.

Instead of saying what I was thinking, I extended my hand and wiggled with the posh invitation under his gaze. In less than a second, the snobby Porter underwent a tremendous change of manners. He beamed at me, and with a polite bow of his head and a wave of his hand, he personally escorted me to the elevator while politely apologising, almost to the point of being ridiculously akin to grovelling. As the elevator dig announced its' arrival, I was shown in, and Porter had to insert a key card; before he pressed the button for the selected floor (naturally, he pushed the top button for the penthouse apartment).

"A thousand apologies, Miss." The Porter said as he stepped out of the elevator and remained bowed until the door closed.

"The devil was that?" I whispered while I nervously pulled at my sleeves, needing to busy my hands.

But with each floor that showed on the monitor, I was experiencing a rise in my silent anxiety. While I was perspiring under my armpits, my palms felt cold. I hated the uncertainty and walking into the unknown; it made me feel sick. Glancing at the mirrored wall, I looked as though I was about to projectile vomit and then faint. Knowing my luck face first into my vomit and suffocating on it. A Death that was worthy of a Darwin award.

Shut up and focus!

Closing my eyes, I counted to five, then tried to put a smile on my shaking lips. I rechecked that it didn't look like a terrified grimace as the elevator dinged, giving me seconds to pull myself together. Opening the doors, I thought I was ready for what I would face. With confidence I hadn't felt in a while, I looked at the floor and took a big step forward before glancing around, only to feel dread as I did. I felt a gust of air around me as the door closed behind me, delivering me to the venue I was supposed to be. Clenching my invitation in the palm of my hand, I stood there, gasping for air.

"Alistair said it wouldn't be a big deal," I whispered, panicking.

If my story had been a third-person narrator, they would say: "However, indeed, it was a big deal." Probably even in Morgan Freeman's calm voice.

There was a piece of soft piano music playing in the background, waiters in tuxedoes gallantly strolling with trays full of crystal flutes of champagne, while the room itself was as luxurious as the guest. They were all dressed in their finest; I saw ballgown dresses, designer shoes, and expensive jewellery on the perfect human species that existed only in movies or on a runway.